Chapter 16
Valencia paused mid-step and turned to look at the person who'd spoken.
Haven was hurrying over with Xiomara in tow, a smile plastered on her face—but that smile carried something indescribable.
Scrutiny. Probing. And a trace of poorly concealed superiority.
Valencia raised an eyebrow slightly and glanced at Seraphine.
Seraphine's expression didn't change. Her tone remained flat as she made the introduction. "This is Mrs. Wipere. My former adoptive mother."
Valencia immediately understood who the woman in front of her was—and the girl behind her must be the Wipere family's biological daughter they'd found.
Her instinct was to properly thank Haven. After all, she'd raised her biological daughter for all these years.
A genuine smile appeared on Valencia's face.
"Mrs. Wipere," she extended her hand proactively, "I'm Sera's biological mother, Valencia Mellon. Thank you so much for taking care of Sera all these years. Truly—thank you."
Haven looked at Valencia's outstretched hand, froze for a moment, then shook it reluctantly before quickly letting go.
Valencia blinked.
She was perceptive. She immediately sensed the disdain and arrogance in the other woman's eyes.
Why?
She frowned inwardly, displeased, but didn't show it.
Her upbringing wouldn't allow her to lose composure in public.
"You're too kind." Haven's tone was lukewarm.
Haven looked Valencia up and down, her gaze circling that "plain" suit, then lingering for a moment on the logo-less watch on her wrist.
Her lips curved slightly, carrying a condescending assessment.
Just as she thought—shabby.
Going out dressed like that?
Haven thought this to herself, though her smile became even more enthusiastic. "Ms. Mellon, Seraphine lived with us for years. We treated her like our own daughter. Who knew it was all a misunderstanding? Now that we've switched back, that's good."
Like their own daughter?
Seraphine's lips curved slightly. She said nothing.
If they'd truly treated her like their own daughter, their attitude wouldn't have done a complete one-eighty the moment Xiomara was found.
Valencia glanced at her daughter, thoughtful.
It seemed Seraphine hadn't had a good time in her previous home.
Thinking this, Valencia felt a pang of sympathy.
But she still didn't lose her composure, simply smiling faintly. "Is that so? Then thank you very much, Mrs. Wipere. When Sera was young, she was fortunate to have your care."
"Of course, of course." Haven smiled, her gaze beginning to sweep over Valencia again.
She was searching—for designer bags, for big logos, for anything that could prove the woman's worth.
Nothing.
Haven's contempt deepened another layer.
Valencia noticed Haven's gaze. She also noticed Xiomara standing to the side, her eyes full of undisguised scrutiny and assessment.
She'd lived half a lifetime. What hadn't she seen?
She saw through these two immediately.
But she didn't plan to make an issue of it.
Not out of generosity—but because it wasn't worth it.
"Mrs. Wipere," Valencia suddenly spoke, her tone still gentle, "I left in a rush today and didn't bring a proper gift. You cared for Sera. By rights, I should thank you properly."
As she spoke, she raised her hand and removed the bracelet from her wrist.
It was an exquisite gemstone bracelet, elegant in color, gleaming with a soft luster under the corridor lights.
The quality was refined, the gemstone flawless and transparent—clearly not ordinary.
Seraphine saw her mother removing the bracelet and frowned slightly but said nothing.
Valencia held the bracelet out to Haven with a smile. "This bracelet has been with me for some years. It's nothing particularly valuable, just a token of my appreciation. I hope Mrs. Wipere won't mind."
Whether the other woman accepted it or not didn't matter to her.
She was offering it because Seraphine deserved it.
They were, after all, Seraphine's adoptive family. No matter what, Valencia was willing to show gratitude.
Haven looked down at the bracelet.
But Haven didn't understand gemstones.
In her eyes, gemstones weren't as valuable as diamonds or as eye-catching as gold.
Moreover, this bracelet had no brand markings, not even a gift box—just handed over bare like this. How much could it be worth?
Haven's smile faded slightly.
"Ms. Mellon, how could I accept this?" Haven's tone was polite, but the distaste in her eyes couldn't be hidden. "When Seraphine was with us, we spent plenty of money on her. We're not hurting for cash. This bracelet… you should keep it for yourself."
When she said "spent plenty of money," her tone carried a subtle hint of bragging.
Valencia's hand paused.
She caught Haven's meaning—disdain.
Disdain that this bracelet wasn't worth much.
Valencia was somewhat surprised.
This bracelet was a Windsor family heirloom, made with top-grade gemstones, worth at least tens of millions of dollars on the market.
When she'd married Wesley years ago, her mother-in-law had personally placed it on her wrist, saying it was the Windsor family daughter-in-law's heirloom.
She'd worn it to the hospital today simply out of habit, without much thought.
She never expected it to be scorned.
Valencia glanced at Haven, then at Xiomara.
Mother and daughter wore identical expressions—lips slightly pursed, eyes carrying a "your thing isn't presentable" kind of contempt.
Valencia suddenly found it rather amusing.
"Mrs. Wipere," Valencia maintained her smile, "this bracelet may not be from a major brand, but it is an old piece. Please accept it as my thanks."
Haven waved her hand dismissively, her tone carrying a condescending "generosity."
"Ms. Mellon, I told you it's not necessary. The Wipere family may not be top-tier elite, but we're not lacking these sorts of things either. You should keep it for yourself. I can see you've worn this bracelet for a long time. Must have sentimental value."
As she spoke, she pulled up Xiomara's hand and showed off the gold bracelet on her wrist. "See, this bracelet of mine is pure gold. I bought it at an international auction last year for over a hundred thousand dollars. I'm used to wearing quality pieces. I really can't settle for ordinary things."
Xiomara cooperatively extended her wrist as well, showing off a thin gold chain with a small ruby embedded in it.
"Ms. Mellon," Xiomara's voice was sweet, "please don't misunderstand. My mom isn't saying your things aren't good. It's just that our family really doesn't lack these items. You should keep it for yourself."
The words sounded polite enough, but the sense of superiority in her tone couldn't be hidden.
Valencia's hand holding the bracelet paused slightly.
She looked at the so-called "pure gold bracelet" on Haven's wrist—grayish in color, crude workmanship, obviously low-quality B-grade goods. Market value at most a few thousand dollars.